Jonathan Dunn - The Forgotten King

“Will I go with you?”

“By no means! You are meant for Celestine, not for death!” The rain came down his cheek. “Still, I will not go alone; I may meet someone along the way. Farewell.”

With that, he turned to the forest and flew before the wind. Nor did he turn before he disappeared. The others watched him go, then Alfonzo roused them, “Come, there is much to be done.” He turned to the ramparts and passed through the small opening left unsealed. They were the last to pass through and behind them the enemy was already beginning to land. “Seal the gap!” as he went through.

“What of the Admiral?”

“He is lost to his revenge. Do not wait for a bitter man.”

“As you wish, sir,” and the guards did their duty.

At that moment, the Fardy brothers approached Alfonzo. The blond Fardy said, “Alfonzo, where are we needed? Say the word and we are there.”

“To the castle, friends,” was the quick reply.

“The castle! Then we would miss the battle, and our patience is weak in war.”

“To the castle,” Alfonzo firmly repeated. “With the trenches flooded there are more men than spaces here, while Milada is pressed to prepare the castle. For the deluge comes, of men and of water.”

“Then our patience will be proved – my brothers’ more than my own – and we will meet again in the castle. Until then, be safe,” and the three brothers set off for the castle, though where the dirt path had been a river now ran. They ran beside it.

Meanwhile, the rebel ships had become charred ruins at the bottom of the sea, and the ships broken by the chain no longer blocked the channel. The Atiltian, Hibernian fleet hurried into the harbor to save itself from the wrath of the storm, and while the forest made landing impossible, it also defeated the wind. Aboard the flagship, de Casanova and his king controlled the siege. The former stood at the bow, reading the situation with his telescope; the latter sat at his table beneath the canopy, reading the situation with his maps and charts.

“The ships are anchored,” de Casanova said.

“Excellent, begin the landing; but take only what you need for the ramparts. The castle sits at the bottom of a basin: if this downpour continues, we will have to float the troops down by flatboat.”

Soon the fleet stretched along the coast several ships deep. Because of its size, however, The Barber remained in the rear. De Casanova prepared to lead the invasion himself. As he went he spoke to his sovereign, without turning to face him.

“If I fall, do not be harsh to Lydia.”

With that, he signaled the trumpeters to begin the call and jumped across to the next ship. The fleet was huddled together so densely he could pass from one ship to another. In a moment he reached the shore, occupying the same ground the rebels had just deserted. It was a wasteland between the two forces. A mist went up as the rain came down. The land was left in haze; and though it was now one o’clock, the only sun was that which refracted off the storm. De Casanova took his place before the soldiers, who had already made ranks.

“We will charge them, men. We will not retreat.Charge!” and the trumpets sang.

The landing force was twenty thousand strong, standing rested and restless. The rebel ramparts were within fifty yards now, though the distance was covered by an inch of water and their passage slowed as a result. They pushed a siege weapon before them, a steel barrier that formed a triangle, the point facing the ramparts. With the rain decaying the foundations of the fortification, the siege weapon was meant to push the mud walls in and open them to the attackers. The mud slowed its advance; but, as de Casanova made his life doing difficult things, he forced it forward. The ranks extended parallel to the siege weapon on either side, angling backward to protect their flank. Arrows swarmed, but the rain slowed them. In a moment the onager struck the ramparts.

“De Casanova,” Alfonzo whispered as he watched the approaching armies. “If I were a man of revenge, this would be a time of celebration. As it is, I will fight for duty and nothing more.”

Lionel came along beside him. “You would fight without hating? I confess I am a youth, but still I have never seen a man kill one he loved. If not one, then the other.”

Alfonzo was silent, lost in the sea that fell about them. Then, “You are right, perhaps, but I cannot leave so great an enemy unchallenged.”

“It is not your hatred I condemn, but your denial. Either way, you need not think of that foul old man, for he is mine. His blood will be on my account, and justice done.”

“Many men, in war, make themselves the justice of the peace,” Alfonzo rebuked in turn. “But beware, for de Casanova has defeated justice more than once. He will give no mercy.”

“And he will have none. But would it matter? Look about you, Alfonzo: we will all die.”He looked at the storm and paused. “If there must be murder, let it not be God’s but mine!”

At that moment, the siege weapons struck the ramparts and the earthen walls fell back in disarray. It came again. The water began to pass through. A third time, and the entrance was unsealed.

“Quickly, men,” de Casanova yelled, “Quickly, follow me!” He dashed up the wall – sloped on the inside – and washed over two rebels stationed there. They had no weapons but arrows and raised their arms to surrender. But they only surrendered their souls: de Casanova struck them down with a single side stroke.

Meanwhile, the advancing soldiers propagated themselves throughout the defenses. The melee was general. Alfonzo rode about on his horse, rallying and forming them into a disciplined line. De Casanova saw him from the wall and started after him, but he was halted by a voice behind his shoulder.

“The Chevalier de Braunign, de Casanova; who could have thought I would have such luck?”

De Casanova spun around. “Lionel!”

“Indeed; come, let us finish this like men.”

“Like men? And for what, a woman?”

“What is fighting for, but man’s woe? Come along.”

“Very well,” and he followed Lionel over the rampart to the ground between the fleet and the fortifications. The water grew deeper and the bay crept closer. The space between the two, however, was empty; for all the soldiers were in battle. “Very well, Lionel; but you must know this fight is as meaningless as that which tears your heart. The outcome is decided, and by her.”

“Patrick is my friend, but Lydia my sister; I fight for her honor alone, for he cares less for his own than even I. Here, we are alone: draw,” and Lionel’s blade came from its sheath and shot toward de Casanova. The latter had his ready and parried the blow.

The young man followed with an assault on his adversary’s left side. He struck again and again in rapid succession, advancing a step with each; de Casanova deflected the blows. Then, seeing he could not prevail in this manner, Lionel lunged at the other’s chest. De Casanova slipped as he fell back and the sword struck his arm – a painful wound, but harmless. He fell into the water.

“It is finished,” Lionel stood over him.

“Indeed,” and he kicked Lionel’s feet aside, bringing him to the ground.

They regained their feet at the same time. The duel resumed. Lionel grew in zeal, and with his larger sword brought a rain of fierce down strokes on his enemy’s head. Thunder rang as de Casanova struggled to block them. Lightning flashed on the steel. De Casanova dodged to the left and a blow fell to the ground. Yet Lionel picked it up before the other could return it and de Casanova recoiled under its hurricane force.

“You struggle, old man: weakness haunts your eyes.”